Sir Castle
by Phosphorescent
Summary: Tag to 3x11: "Nikki Heat". Richard Castle is a modern-day knight… in his imagination, at least.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Castle._

_A/N: I'm actually behind on my Castle-watching (darn you, real life!), but I found this fic hiding in one of my computer files recently. It's a bit simplistic and rather silly, but it's still fun. Enjoy!_

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><p>For heroes, there's always a test of purity. Like Sir Gawain and Bertilak's wife, you know?<p>

Natalie's hot, there's no doubt of that. _Smoking_ hot, in fact. And when she's dressed like Beckett, and adopts Beckett's mannerisms…

Well, she's Nikki Heat in the flesh: commanding, dedicated, slutty, and far more intelligent and complex than she appears at first glance.

"So, Rook…" Natalie says, as they part from their kiss, panting, "Want to continue this in a more private setting? Say… my place?"

He's tempted, he'll admit. She's a fan-freaking-_tastic_ kisser, and he's pretty sure she's every bit as good in bed.

But when push comes to shove, she's a pale imitation of the real thing.

Eyes serious, he says, "No."

"I didn't realize you were so kinky," she says, stroking his chest. "I'm flexible, though… literally _and_ figuratively. Any location's fine with me."

Putting a bit more distance between them, he elaborates, "I'm sorry, Natalie –"

"_Nikki_," she emphasizes.

"– but it's not going to happen. You are very beautiful – and an excellent kisser, by the way –"

"Thank you," she says, smiling, "You're not half bad, yourself."

A sheepish grin on his face, he continues, "– but I can't. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression."

Frowning slightly, Natalie says, "Why not?"

Hesitating, he eventually says, "It would be… unethical."

"Right," Natalie says with a skeptical snort, but she drops the subject. With an airy wave of her hand, she says, "I guess I'll just be forced to take care of this… itch… alone. All alone, in my apartment. With a bottle of champagne, a warm bubble bath, and _Naked Heat_."

Her husky voice drops an octave on the last few words.

Mouth dry, he manages to murmur, "Good for you."

'Cause let's face it: the scene that she's painted is certainly, uh, _stimulating_.

"Bye, Castle," she says, leaning over to kiss his cheek, her cleavage brushing against him. "If you change your mind, here's my number."

And, handing him her card, she sashays off in the direction of her car, black heels clicking against the pavement.

And he can't help but feel a bit proud of himself. Like Sir Gawain, he's resisted the temptations of a beautiful, willing woman.

Huh. Sir Richard. Sounds good, right?

When he mentions his new title at home, his mother snorts, and his daughter shakes her head in amusement.

"If you are all that's left of the Age of Chivalry," Martha scoffs, "then we really are in trouble."

"Chivalry," he says, warming to his topic, "From the Old French for 'knighthood', _chevalerie_, which, in turn, is from the Medieval Latin for 'horseman',_ caballarius_. Incidentally, the Italian word 'cavalry' is from that same root. Unsurprising, really, considering that they're both Romance languages."

"Since when did you become a language expert?" Alexis asks curiously.

"My deah," he says in an (atrocious) English accent, "I know everything. I am a _writer_, after all; language is my trade."

Martha raises an eyebrow, prompting him to admit, "Research for a book way back when."

"Seriously, though," he continues, "Sir Richard Castle. It has a ring to it, doesn't it?"

He strikes a pose, triumphant music ringing in his ears. In his mind's eye, he can see himself brandishing a sword, defeating recreant knights and rescuing fair maidens.

_Lady Katherine de Beckett would cry, "Oh, Sir Richard, help!"_

_And he would ride forth on his noble steed and…_

_No._

_Beckett's not the sort who'd beg for assistance, let alone need it in the first place. It would be more likely that she'd rescue _him_._

_He'd be OK with that, though. He's a _modern_ knight, after all._

_And after she'd rescued him from the evil sorcerer, he'd reward her with a kiss._

_And then they'd…_

"Richard? _Richard_!" Martha says, finally snapping him out of his daydream.

"Huh? Oh, yes. Right. We were discussing dinner, weren't we?"

"Sure, Dad," Alexis says cautiously. "So, Thai tonight?"

"Sounds good, sweetie," he tells her a bit absent-mindedly.

"He's off in his own world again," he vaguely hears her tell Martha.

"Occupational hazard of being a writer," he says, heading towards his office. "I'll join you for dinner, I promise. I just need to get a few things down on paper before I forget."

And, freshly inspired, he sallies forth to write a new chapter in his latest Nikki Heat novel.

Later that night, after a deliciously spicy dinner and a horror flick with Alexis, he settles himself into bed.

Yeah, Natalie Rhodes is attractive, but he's glad that they didn't go any further. It just would've been weird sleeping with a woman who so closely resembled Beckett. It was one thing to fantasize, hell, even to do a little role play; it would have been another altogether to seriously 'do it' with the actual character.

Kinda would have felt like cheating or something.

The absurdity of this doesn't hit him until he's almost asleep. When he turned Natalie down? There were lots of reasons. But none of them were named Gina.

Huh.

And as he drops off to sleep, he fuzzily thinks that this bears further thought.


End file.
